


good friends share your hangovers (best friends help you cure them)

by notavodkashot



Series: Terms and Conditions Apply [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hangover, Marriage of Convenience, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: After a night of absurd amounts of drinking, Nyx has a hangover to match.Prompto doesn't, because he's made of bullshit and Nyx hates him. (Not really.)





	good friends share your hangovers (best friends help you cure them)

“You should be miserable and dead,” Nyx muttered crankily, face pressed firmly into the solid - well, as solid as four attempts, forty hours of manual labor, two boxes of nails and one tub of super glue could make it - wood of the kitchen table.

They had exactly one (1) piece of furniture in the entire apartment that they’d assembled themselves, and there was a good reason for it. Mostly the look of haunted regret in Prompto’s face when he’d told Nyx:  _Never again_.

“I know,” Prompto chirped back, perfectly sober and content and not dearly wishing he’d spontaneously combust. “I never really get hangovers, though! Good genes, I guess.”

Nyx looked up just enough so he could stare blearily at him for a moment, all sunshine and brightness and chirpy good mood.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, and dropped his head back onto the table, forehead hitting first then his nose and then he pressed his face into the wobbly mess of a table as if willing his brain to implode under the pressure. It’d hurt less, surely.

Prompto choked on a sound like a snort and a giggle, and then rummaged around for a bit, each noise a tiny stab of pain into Nyx’s poor, abused senses.

“Is it okay if I…” Prompto began, after a moment, when Nyx had almost convinced himself that nothing was happening at all and he was just a growth on the table, senseless and therefore painless. “Just… it’s cold, okay?”

And then Prompto slid his fingers into Nyx’s hair, hands icy, deliciously, blessedly cold against the uncomfortable stuffy heat bubbling under Nyx’s skin.

The sound Nyx made wasn’t human.

It made Prompto laugh, high and nervous, but he didn’t take away his fingers, which was nice. His fingers were nice. He was nice. Nyx’s favorite person in the whole wide world, even. Just. Yes. Please. More.

“And I haven’t even told you I made breakfast,” Prompto replied, because apparently Nyx was babbling out loud and he should care about that, probably, but it was hard to when Prompto’s fingers were literally stabbing and dissolving the migraine right where it was trying to form. Prompto snorted. “Does that mean you want the eggs or not?”

Nyx gurgled again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [DW](https://notavodkashot.dreamwidth.org/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot), if you'd like.


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